


as much as i can hold

by MooksMookin, spacegirlkj



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, M/M, Post-Canon, Sex Tapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26095609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooksMookin/pseuds/MooksMookin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirlkj/pseuds/spacegirlkj
Summary: “Take a picture— it’ll last longer,” Hinata teases, grinning as he holds up his shirt a little higher.Oikawa might just hold him to that.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 23
Kudos: 461





	as much as i can hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Squiggly_Bones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squiggly_Bones/gifts).



> HELLOOOOOOOOOO this is a surprise gift for my good friend liann inspired by [this AMAZING art of hers!!!](https://twitter.com/Liann1009/status/1293195785257881600?s=20) i hope you guys enjoy this as much as we did!!!  
> -mooks
> 
> —
> 
> the way this art wouldnt leave my head. it plagued me. it haunted me. it followed me around and said "i know your secrets." this art attacked me personally and i needed to exorcise it just to function. thank you to liann for making this and inspiring this fic!! it was a ball to write!  
> -kj

Somewhere in San Juan, Oikawa sits in a dark room lit only by his laptop, white light highlighting sharp cheekbones and the frame of his face. All the shadows that fall are translated into static over the FaceTime video, leaving the visage of a ghost to be seen through his webcam. On the other end of the call, Hinata smiles. The warmth of his skin is clear to see through the orange lamplight at his deskside, keeping him in perfect focus for Oikawa to see. For all of the care he puts into Hinata, Oikawa can't be bothered to turn on his own light. After two hours talking about everything, nothing, and all that lies in between, the last remnants of natural light have faded. San Juan is a city for the stars now, but Hinata shines brighter than Orion ever could. Even as he blinks his sleepy eyes and drapes his chin over his hand, Oikawa can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Hinata as he speaks.

Long distance is difficult. It was hard when they first reconnected all those years ago on Rio’s sandy shores, and it’s hard now as they fold themselves into each other in different South American leagues. Oikawa lives for days off and weekends spent in each other's arms, for these stolen moments spent speaking through a screen. He thrives off of trips back to Japan scheduled at the same time, layovers shared with heads tipped on each other’s shoulders, flights spent comparing two different passports, once the same. But what Oikawa loves most of all, in the most selfish combination of everything he’s ever come to love, are practice matches and exhibition games. Moments where the stars align in an eclipse of his two favourite things— volleyball and Hinata, which are not always one and the same. 

The next exhibition match between their teams comes in five days time, one day after Hinata is scheduled to land in San Juan. The undeniable placement of teammates over long term boyfriends means Hinata won’t find release until one of them has lost the game. The weekend and Oikawa's deep cleaned apartment await. They’ve both been counting the minutes until they’re back in each other’s arms since the match was announced, and now, with days between their skin, the tension has grown thick. Above all else, Oikawa misses Hinata. No amount of video calls can remedy that feeling— loneliness is an ailment that can only be cured by having Hinata lie in his arms. 

Hinata sighs in a heavy puff of air that blows out the microphone and in turn, Oikawa’s ears. Sao Paulo is hot this time of year, gracing Hinata’s forehead with a thin sheen of sweat despite the fan running in the background. Oikawa is grateful for the lamplight as Hinata lifts up his shirt to wipe his forehead. Not even the grainy quality of his computer’s webcam can tarnish the sight of Hinata’s abs, defined even as he crouches forwards. Unconsciously, Oikawa wets his lips, first sucking them in, then tracking them over with his tongue. The part of his mind that will never stop thinking about the taste of sweat on freckled skin hungers, insatiable. When Hinata looks back at the pretty picture of Oikawa leering, it’s with a smile, too coy to be innocent, lip caught between teeth.

“Take a picture— it’ll last longer,” he teases, grinning as he holds up his shirt a little higher. Oikawa snorts, but hits the command keys and snaps a screenshot of Hinata putting himself on display. His self confidence makes it all the more alluring— though Oikawa fell in love with the bumbling, bashful version of Hinata, he adores the strength implied by rock hard enthusiasm and a youthful ego. 

“Saving that for later,” Oikawa mumbles, half joking as he drags the screenshot into a folder. He hears Hinata scoff and looks back in time to watch him drop his shirt.

“Pervert.”

“Oh? _I’m_ the perv?” Oikawa asks. They’re both joking, smiling much too wide to be in anything but jest. “I bet you’d like that. Me, touching myself while looking at pictures of you.”

There’s a split second where Hinata loses his composure, where his breath hitches and cheeks go red. It stokes the flames broiling in Oikawa’s stomach, pushes him closer to the screen as Hinata begins shifting in his seat.

 _“Ma~ybe,”_ he says like a song. He’s letting Oikawa take the lead, implicit in the way his eyes stare through the monitor in a demand for more. 

Oikawa considers his words, sin rolling over his tongue. “Well, if that’s not enough, you can get off to the thought of me, taking a picture of you bent over my cock. How about that?”

Hinata closes his eyes, and Oikawa allows him the mercy of sucking in a breath to calm whatever rush shudders through him. He sees his adrenaline, but can’t feel it, not through the layers of internet and distance between them. When Hinata finally speaks, it’s quiet, both permission and a promise.

“I’ll hold you to it, then,” he tells him, and there’s challenge in his voice, binding Oikawa to his words. “You better be ready, _Tooru.”_

All Oikawa can do now is grin. A promise indeed. 

—

It takes forty-five minutes after the fifth set to make it to Oikawa’s home. Bags are dropped in the doorway, Hinata’s suitcase kicked to the side in favour of crashing into Oikawa’s awaiting arms. He still smells like sweat and salonpas, but Oikawa devours him all the same, pinning him first to the door, then the wall as they kiss. He’s missed this— greedy hands skimming under his shirt, the pull of nails down his abs. Hinata jumps and wraps his legs around Oikawa’s torso. He’s strong enough that Oikawa doesn’t need to grab his thighs to support him, though he does anyway, if only to feel the flex of Hinata’s glutes under his palms. 

Every touch brings them closer together. Oikawa sucks Hinata’s bottom lip into his mouth and bites it, playing with the flesh until it’s swollen and tender. Hinata gives as good as he gets, tangling his hands in Oikawa’s hair. They've been together long enough for Hinata to know exactly what that does to Oikawa, to know exactly what reaction he’ll get. Oikawa groans against Hinata upticked lips and lets him have this power over him, if only for now. With the taste of Hinata already filling his mouth, Oikawa deepens the kiss, pushing their bodies impossibly closer. 

Fresh in his mind’s eye are demonstrations of Hinata strength. Sculpted legs pushing off against the ground, the displays of flexibility shown with every dive for a ball, the crazed look of hunger from across the net— the heat from each sight pools in the depths of Oikawa’s stomach. He can feel hints of that same power and desire on Hinata’s tongue. Even as the kiss grows sloppy, they refuse to part, letting their lips smack with spit. Oikawa drags his lips across Hinata’s jaw, enjoying the rumble of Hinata’s sigh against him. The first bite against his neck has Hinata jerking in his hold, his grip on Oikawa’s hair growing near painful. Oikawa hums against his neck and smiles before sucking on the delicate skin covering his pulse. Hinata gasps, tipping his head to the side. The sound is as lovely as any song Oikawa has ever heard and pulls him deeper into Hinata’s all encompassing orbit. 

“Missed having your marks on me,” Hinata manages to choke out. His chest heaves with every inhale, hands coming up to cradle Oikawa’s head. Oikawa grins, all tongue and teeth as he lavishes the hickey beginning to darken on Hinata’s neck. 

“Did you?” Oikawa questions, as if he doesn’t already know. The low drawl has Hinata shuddering in his hold. “Do you want me to make it so _everyone_ knows what you’ve been up to?”

Hinata’s hum sounds almost like a purr of content. “Please,” he says, airy on the tail end of an exhale. 

Oikawa sinks his teeth into the next kiss, placing the mark closer to Hinata’s ear. Hinata’s broken moan is worth the pain of nails scraping down his scalp as Oikawa laps over his lobe and the tender bruise below. When he kisses back down Hinata’s neck, his lips find the cotton material of his shirt blocking him from leaving kisses any lower. Suddenly, their position against his front door seems all too inconvenient, the layers of clothes separating their skin all too unnecessary. With a deep breath and a quick bend in his knees, Oikawa takes all of Hinata’s weight into his arms, carrying him towards the set of stairs to their right. Hinata only yelps once, laughing into Oikawa’s shoulder once the surprise fades. Nothing else matters in that moment but him, the smile pressed to Oikawa’s skin, and the heart pounding in his chest. Everything else disappears, until the world is just them, until it’s just Hinata in his arms. 

Oikawa has to kick his bedroom door open, bringing their joint balance off centre enough that Hinata is forced to let go. He lands without a foot out of place, a testament to years of training and jump practice. Instead of standing back up, however, Hinata sinks lower, knees hitting the floor with a dull _thunk_ at the same time that blood rushes south. 

“Shou-chan?” Oikawa asks, unable to keep the grin out of his voice. Hinata reaches up, smoothing his hands over Oikawa’s thighs to rest over his crotch. Surprisingly, he doesn’t tease, working down both Oikawa’s shorts and briefs down with one strong tug. His cock bounces free, half hard and stiffening by the second with every puff of air against it. Hinata looks up through a thin veil of eyelashes, smiling as his hand wraps around the base. His tongue darts out to flick over the tip, swirling it around it before taking it into his mouth. Oikawa lets himself groan, resting one hand on the back of Hinata’s head and the other in his hair. With one smooth motion, Hinata takes half of Oikawa’s cock into his mouth, letting it rest heavy on his tongue for a moment before hollowing his cheeks. 

_“Fuck,_ Shouyou,” Oikawa curses, flexing his hand in Hinata’s hair. The resounding hum around his dick does nothing for his self control, already beginning to wear thin as he grows to full hardness. Hinata isn’t deterred by the pull in his hair— if anything, it goads him further down his cock towards the base. Each bob of his head has the mass of pressure behind Oikawa’s navel fluttering closer to the surface. The sight alone could do it for him— Hinata’s brow creases with determination, his eyes half shut and lips spread thin around Oikawa’s girth. In the shadow of his jaw, Oikawa watches Hinata’s Adam's apple bob in an attempt to swallow around him. It takes a few more moments of heavy breathing and torturously slow movements, but Hinata’s eventually swallows him whole, his nose resting in the patch of dark curls on Oikawa’s pelvic bone. 

Hinata opens his eyes fully, blinking away a thin film of tears that watered at the surface. His jaw relaxes slightly, letting him push forwards only to pull back quick motions. A shuddered breath leaves Oikawa as he waits for him to move, only for Hinata to reach one hand up to cup Oikawa’s on the back of his head. Wordlessly, he pulls himself off of Oikawa’s cock until just the tip lies on his tongue, then pushes him beside back down with Oikawa’s hand. Oikawa’s dick twitches, heart aches. He gets the gist without a second to spare, hips jolting forwards to drive back into the velvety softness of Hinata’s mouth. 

There’s few sights Oikawa loves more than Hinata’s eyes as he facefucks him. They stay open for a few moments, looking up at him in a kind of innocence they both know to be false, and begin to droop with every shove down towards Oikawa’s hips. Hinata’s throat tightens around the head of Oikawa’s cock as he swallows in an attempt not to choke. It’s hard for Oikawa not to lose himself chasing the tightening feeling in his gut. The combined slide of Hinata’s tongue around the underside and the constriction of his throat drives Oikawa closer and closer to the brink, until he has no choice but to yank Hinata off of his dick with a slick _pop._

Hinata sucks in a lungful of air, breaking the thin strand of saliva that connected his lips with Oikawa’s dick. 

“I’ve needed you in me since I saw you this morning,” Hinata says, voice tinted by the rasp in his throat. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “And if you don’t fuck me so hard I can’t walk, I’ll do it myself.”

Oikawa doesn’t even bother to tuck himself back into his briefs. He yanks Hinata up by the collar of his shirt, pushing him backwards so that they both stumble onto his bed. The mattress sinks with their combined weights as they crash into each other, joining their lips once more. Mouths drag across each other in hurried motions, as desperate as the hands that claw at their clothes. Hinata latches his legs around Oikawa’s back, and with one firm twist of his core, flips them over so that he can straddle Oikawa’s waist. In a moment of dizziness, Oikawa’s vision blurs. One moment, Hinata is grinning down at him. In the next, he’s pulled his shirt up to expose his chest, extending arms high above his head.

“You’re beautiful,” Oikawa whispers, mostly to himself. Hinata’s eyes flick down to meet his, and he tosses the shirt aside. Licking his lips, Hinata leans forwards, shimmying out of his shorts and underwear as best he can. The sharp tan lines around his elbows and knees are nothing new— they’ve only intensified since Hinata returned to South America to play. Still, It’s a sight Oikawa will never tire of. The muscles push and pull, refined despite Hinata’s small frame. The thin sheet of freckles on his shoulders have begun to fade into a tan, yet the pinprick marks still appear where Oikawa least expects them. Along the curve of his ass, his back, the apples of his cheeks— they bloom in multitudes, much like Hinata’s smile. With no more clothes to hide his body, Oikawa watches Hinata blush all the way down his stomach. It’s as pink as the head of his cock and somehow adorable and lewd at the same time. Oikawa reaches forwards to slide his thumb along the shaft, and Hinata leans down to capture his lips.

In a tangle of limbs and clothes, Oikawa somehow manages to rid himself of the rest of his clothes. Their teeth clack in their haste to feel skin on skin. Even the faint taste of iron on Oikawa’s tongue can’t beat the delicious friction of Hinata grinding down on his thigh. Soft moans fall into his awaiting lips, as sweet as fresh air on dying lungs. Oikawa drinks it all in, rakes his nails down Hinata’s back as he combs his hands through his hair. 

Hinata pulls away, sitting up suddenly. “Lube,” he states, not so much a question as a demand. 

“Where it always is, baby.” Oikawa smirks, admiring the view of Hinata’s heaving chest.

With a whine, Hinata climbs off of Oikawa to rifle through his bedside drawer, giving Oikawa time to sit up scoot lower on the bed. The moment that Hinata turns, the bottle of lube held like a trophy in hand, Oikawa grabs him by the waist and pulls him down, toppling him into the pillows. He lands backwards on Oikawa’s lap, ass pressed up against Oikawa’s dick. They both heave a sigh of relief, Hinata tossing his head back against Oikawa’s shoulder as he grinds down again. All that Oikawa can think of is how much he’s missed this. How much he’s missed having Hinata heaving, squirming, gasping in his hold. How much he wants to immortalize the sight of his back, muscles shifting under skin. 

Oikawa takes the lube from Hinata and squeezes it onto his fingertips. It’s cold, holding nothing more than a sterile scent that the smell of their sweat easily overpowers. Hinata leans forwards so that his hands fist the pillows, knees resting on the outer sides of Oikawa’s thighs, and exhales heavily. Not a second later does Oikawa press the first finger inside, sinking all the way to the knuckle.

“Mmm, I’ve missed this,” Hinata says, babbles really, grinding back against Oikawa’s hand. He relaxes quickly into the intrusion, even as Oikawa crooks it against his walls. _“More.”_

Oikawa grins at the demand, unable to deny him the request. He’s rougher with the second, thrusting it in alongside his first fast enough that Hinata sucks in a breath of surprise. “Is that enough for you?” Oikawa asks. The shudder he gets in response is almost as lovely as the arch in Hinata’s back. Gripping Hinata’s ass with his free hand, Oikawa spreads Hinata’s cheek to reveal his now lube coated hole. Moments like these, where Oikawa exposes Hinata and all of his deepest desires, pulls on the tether from his heart to Hinata’s. Oikawa alone has the pleasure of seeing Hinata at his most vulnerable, at making him turn from stone to clay. It’s a fact of life that makes Oikawa’s heart ache with love and his stomach curl with desire. A possessive part of him relishes in the fact that all of the bruises on Hinata’s hips will be left by his hands. 

“Thought about this all day,” Oikawa says, squeezing Hinata’s ass in time with the thrust of his fingers. “I would’ve bent you over the bench and fucked you right there if I could've, or maybe in the showers where everyone could hear your voice.”

Hinata pushes back on Oikawa’s fingers, his dick bobbing heavy between his legs. “Tooru…”

“I bet you would’ve liked that, right? You like showing off how you drive me mad?” Oikawa punctuates the question by pressing his thumb to Hinata’s perineum, glee overtaking his grin as Hinata’s thighs begin to tremble. He hooks his fingers and watches as Hinata gasps, words failing him. 

“But I didn't do that, because _I’m_ the only one who gets to see you like this,” he continues, curling over so that he can whisper his next promise onto Hinata’s spine. “You’re all mine, Shouyou.”

“Yes, _yes,_ Tooru,” Hinata stammers, attempting to rock back on Oikawa’s fingers and drive them back against his prostate. Instead, Oikawa adds a third, stretching Hinata even further. There’s little left of his patience, and nothing else on his mind besides making Hinata fall apart by his hands. The deeper he drives his fingers inside of him, the tighter Hinata’s grip in the sheets grows. He keeps his thumb pressed to the tender flesh of Hinata’s perineum, massaging upwards in time with his thrusts. Each broken gasp makes Oikawa grip his hip tighter in effort not to lose himself completely. His stomach churns with untapped desire, only amplified by the clench of Hinata around his fingers. He can’t help but press harder against Hinata’s prostate just to hear him whine. Instead, Hinata bucks his hips forwards, collapsing face first into the pillows as he writhes. Oikawa is quick to remove his fingers before Hinata can cum, shifting his legs out from under Hinata. 

_“Nngh,_ don’t stop…” Hinata says, his voice muffled by the pillow. He turns his head and gives Oikawa the gift of watching his blush travel from the apples of his cheeks, down his nape, all the way to the dimples in his lower back.

“I won’t, baby,” Oikawa whispers, voice light with awe. He slides slick fingertips over the swell of Hinata’s pert ass, over each of the red marks left in the shape of his nails. His hand left a mark, too, a soon to be bruise from a grip too strong. Oikawa presses a kiss to the centre of Hinata’s shoulders, then trails them down to the base of his spine. If he could freeze any moment in time, it would be this: Hinata, laid bare and trembling with Oikawa’s name on his lips.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hinata’s words rise to the surface. _Picture perfect,_ Oikawa thinks, running his hand over the raised hair on Hinata’s back. His phone lies in the pockets of his shorts, discarded on the side of the bed. It takes some maneuvering to grab it without leaving the bed, but luckily Hinata is too gone to notice much else beside Oikawa’s hard cock pressing against his thigh. With a single swipe of this thumb, he opens his camera app and leans back to capture all of Hinata’s glory in frame. The scratches on his shoulders. The bites trailing down his neck. His own palm spread out over Hinata’s ass towards his hip. 

_Click._ The camera’s mock shutter sound fills the room, louder than either of their breaths. Hinata seizes up for a moment before cracking an eye open. Oikawa meets his gaze with a mirth filled smile, and snaps a second picture. 

“Haa— are you taking… pictures?” Hinata asks, somewhat out of breath. Oikawa can see the way he smiles, feels the way he squirms under him in a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. He holds Hinata's hips in place, preventing him from rutting down against the bed. The whine of indignation that follows sends a jolt of arousal down to his navel, nails dragging lightly over Hinata's hips.

“It’ll last longer,” he says, his own voice strained. “Longer than you will at least.”

Hinata manages to wriggle his hips from side to side, pushing his ass up as his thighs spread. “You gonna make good on that promise or what?” he says with a clear demand in his eye.

Oikawa bites his lip, hand leaving Hinata’s ass with one last squeeze as he snaps another photo. “You bet I will.” 

With his one free hand, Oikawa slathers his cock with lube. With the other, he swipes to change his camera setting to video, shakily hitting record. The red dot begins flashing just as Oikawa lines his dick up with Hinata’s entrance, recording the slide of his head between Hinata’s cheeks. Despite the tension folded into every one of Oikawa’s muscles, he somehow manages to push past the rim with restraint, as slow as possible. His eyes fall shut as he savours the squeeze of Hinata around each inch of his cock until his hips press flush against Hinata’s ass. Oikawa barely suppresses a shudder by planting his free hand next to Hinata’s head. Hinata blindly reaches out, shoving his hand into Oikawa’s hold. 

Oikawa manages three tortuously contained thrusts before he drops the phone into the sheets and drives into Hinata without restraint. Hinata sighs, arching his back into Oikawa’s rhythm. 

“Tooru, mhm, wait—” he mumbles, pushing his chest up. He looks over his shoulder to where Oikawa’s phone lies discarded and props it up on their pillow. “There. For later.”

The camera blinks, still recording, now focused on their faces. Hinata cracks a smile, at it, before setting back down in the pillows. This time, Oikawa can't control the way he groans. He leans forward on his next thrust, letting his lips ghost over the shell of Hinata’s ear. “Can I stop holding back?” he asks, snapping his hips forwards in a single, deep thrust. 

Hinata answers in the form of a moan muffled by his own fist. Oikawa is quick to pry it away, letting Hinata’s noises fill the air between them. The heady scent of sex and their own sweat hangs heady between them, drawing Oikawa closer and closer to taste Hinata’s skin. He is only faintly aware of his own breathless moans over the sound of Hinata’s cries, never mind the slick _slap_ accompanying each thrust. More intoxicating than anything else is the heat radiating from Hinata’s skin, sinking into Oikawa’s very core. He can feel Hinata’s pulse throbbing around him, squeezing his dick with every pull back and push in.

Pushing himself up, Oikawa moves his hands back to Hinata’s hips. He pulls them off of the bed, watching as Hinata bends at his will. If his strength was something to marvel at, Hinata’s flexibility is something to be revered. The bend in his back is only exaggerated when Oikawa reaches forwards to press down on his shoulder. Hinata bends almost effortlessly, only trembling when Oikawa manages to nail his prostate with a particularly sharp thrust.

“You take me so well, even after all that time away,” Oikawa murmurs, eyes fixated on the furrow in Hinata’s brow. “Bet you were fucking yourself wishing it were me huh?”

“Mhm,” Hinata responds, almost whines. He’s so far gone that drool has begun to pool at the corner of his mouth, seeping into the pillow beneath him.

“So good for me… gonna make you feel it 'til next week,” Oikawa tells him.

Hinata’s hands twist in the sheets as he tenses. _“Ah, ah_ _—_ please… _ngh,_ please, Tooru!” 

Oikawa groans, unable to resist Hinata’s pleads any longer. He wraps his hand around Hinata’s dick, stroking in time with the snap of his hips. It leaves Hinata writhing, breathless once more, leaves Oikawa choking as Hinata clenches down around him. Hinata can’t even bring himself to speak, releasing a choked sob before spilling into Oikawa’s hand. Oikawa holds him tight, fucking him through the aftershocks and sputter, and holds him upright even as Hinata’s body begins to melt into the mattress. His own thrusts grow shorter, until he’s uselessly grinding against Hinata’s hips, orgasm washes over him. The grip he leaves on Hinata’s hips is certain to bruise, even after he too goes limp and collapses onto Hinata completely.

They lie like that for a few moments, breaths heaving, Oikawa not yet having pulled out. Eventually, Hinata begins to squirm, and Oikawa takes pity on his trapped limbs. His biceps tremble as he pushes up to pull out and watch the mixture of cum and lube dribble out of Hinata’s ass and onto his thigh. 

“Mm, leave it for now,” Hinata tells him, rolling over onto his side. “You’ll hit it later, anyways.”

Oikawa can’t deny the spark of joy that brings to his chest. He wipes up the majority of the mess before plopping down at Hinata’s side. Strong arms encase him, snuggling Hinata up to his chest just how they both like it, with one of Oikawa’s pectorals serving as Hinata’s pillow. With the golden hued afterglow still lingering, Oikawa shuts his eyes in search of a brief nap, only to be startled away by the sound of his own voice. 

Or rather, his own moans.

“I— I can’t believe you did that!” Hinata exclaims, cradling the phone close to their faces. He scrubs through the video, playing it at random times. The view is one Oikawa loves, but is used to— for Hinata, the sight of his bare ass spread around Oikawa’s cock is one he hasn’t been privy to before. 

“Well,” Oikawa says, not trying hard to keep the smug lilt out of his voice. “Technically we _both_ did that.” Hinata blushes and turns off the phone, throwing it to the side in dismay. Oikawa laughs, goodnaturedly, and kisses his forehead. “I can delete it if you _really_ hate it.”

“N-n-no!” Hinata waves his hands, as if to stop Oikawa from making any sudden movements. “I… I like it.”

Oikawa’s smile returns. “Good. Then I’ll send you a copy.”

“Mmm, I’d like that. But now, I want to rest. I need some time before you can fuck me like that again,” Hinata mumbles, cheek pressed to Oikawa’s chest. Oikawa wonders if he can hear his heartbeat, the steady rhythm conducted by the glow of Hinata’s skin. Can he hear the wonder imbued in every note? The longing sated, if only for now? 

Oikawa can’t be sure. But here, in Argentina, wrapped up in the arms of the one he loves, Oikawa knows that all he needs is here. All he could ever want is within his grasp. 

—

Two weeks later, in the dark of his own bedroom, Oikawa stops scrolling through his phone. Hinata has an away game against another Brazilian team that just ended. High off another win, his last text had been short. _Gonna celebrate with a few drinks!!_ it read. _I love you!!!!!!_

Even after two hours, Oikawa can’t help but stare at it. Two weeks has let the longing fester once more, but more than anything, Oikawa bathes in the buzz of the unquenchable thirst. His blood thrums with a restless synergy, thighs rubbing together as if expecting something to happen.

Oikawa stares down at his phone, at the icon of the one he loves. It’s an old picture, from when they first met in Rio. Hinata’s hair is much shorter, and Oikawa has a terrible sunburn. All of the focus is on Hinata’s smile, wider than the ocean’s horizon behind him, and brighter than the midday sun. It soothes the ache in Oikawa’s bones as much as it charges the growing need in his gut. With no hesitation on his mind, he opens up his camera roll, and scrolls to the hidden folder. There, among a few other risky pictures he wouldn’t want to send to _Iwa-chan,_ is the video in all of its glory. And with his hand already sliding down his pants, Oikawa doesn’t wait any longer.

With a smile, he presses _play._

**Author's Note:**

> as always, you can find us on twitter [@mookzymooks](https://twitter.com/mookzymooks/) or [@lesbianiwaizumi](https://twitter.com/lesbianiwaizumi/)


End file.
